


Hand in Glove

by deacertes



Category: White Collar
Genre: Glove Kink, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-18 00:47:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10605813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deacertes/pseuds/deacertes
Summary: Peter can't help but stare at Neal's hands, those long artist's fingers still enclosed in soft white protective gloves...





	

Peter can't help but stare at Neal's hands, those long artist's fingers still enclosed in soft white protective gloves. Oh, he knows that he should be thinking about the case - where to go next, who they need to talk to, but his focus keeps sliding back to those slim digits cocooned in white cotton. His mind unhelpfully tries to steer him into even more dangerous territory... like how those fingers would feel wrapped around his cock, which twitches in traitorous appreciation. To his horror something that sounds very much like a breathy moan slips past his lips. Too late he clamps them shut and for a brief moment he entertains the delightful fantasy that it has gone unnoticed, or been attributed to frustration regarding the case. That hope dies a death when Neal slowly turns his head and looks at him. Peter can only stare back, his body apparently determined to be his undoing as his gaze flits helplessly towards Neal's hands and then back up to meet perplexed blue eyes. His composure threatens to desert him entirely as he watches that brilliant mind connect the pieces of the puzzle. Peter closes his eyes to escape what must surely be a mocking smile, and so almost loses his balance when a gloved hand takes his and tugs him forward. He opens his eyes again just in time to register that Neal is pulling him towards a door further down the corridor. It turns out to be locked, and Peter claws back some of his composure as they drop back into more familiar territory - with Neal sliding out a set of lock picks. However, he barely has time to roll his eyes and begin his usual "and this is how you end up in jail" monologue, when he's propelled inside and spun around so that his back is pressed up against the swiftly closed door. 

"You like my gloves, Peter?"

Peter doesn’t want to answer; doesn’t trust his voice not to betray him. Not when Neal's body is pressed close to his from hip to shoulder, their lips close enough to share a breath. Peter knows he should be shocked; outraged; maybe even a little furious. He should be pushing Neal away; instead, he's inserting a hesitant hand between their bodies, seeking out space where there really is none. He feels the muscles under that expensive shirt flutter at the contact, and just like that he knows that he isn't the only one spiralling out of control here. That knowledge makes him bold.

"Yeah, I like the gloves. I think I'd maybe like them even more if you put them somewhere a little more interesting." God, he loves that look on Neal; loves it even more when he knows that he is the one to have put it there. A mixture of wonderment and delight that seems to make those incredible blue eyes electrifying in their intensity, the corners of that wide, sensuous mouth slowly curving upward.

Peter had kept this locked down deep inside, certain that to act on it would be insanity; that he shouldn't even dream of risking what he had for the vague possibility of more. It was too late now, too late to stop the words from gushing forth. "Elizabeth... She... God, she said that I should. That we should. That you could be with us. I mean, if you want. Do you want that?" He suddenly felt a sickening rush of uncertainty. What if he had misread this? The stunned look on Neal's face wasn't helping.

Peter felt nauseous. Why in hell's name hadn't he listened to his instincts? He had been playing it right all along, denying himself this. All right, so Neal had flirted with him – that didn’t have to mean anything. Neal flirted with everyone. It was like breathing to him, and probably almost as involuntary. Besides, even if Neal wanted to have sex with him, that was a whole other universe to wanting a polygamous relationship with them and their significant other. Peter opened his mouth - to say what? Apologize? Ask if they could strike that last part from the record? He didn't get the chance to test out either option because suddenly Neal was kissing him, and if that didn't crush all of his doubts then the words Neal somehow managed to get out without breaking the kiss dissolved any lingering traces.

"Yes. God, yes... Peter, your wife is amazing. And you... you are amazing. This is real, right? I didn't hit my head or anything? I'm not dreaming this?.... Please, if I'm on the floor of my cell right now with a lump on my head, don't wake me up." 

That last part was said so earnestly, so desperately, that Peter broke the kiss to bring both his hands up and cup Neal's face. "Not dreaming," he promised.

"Seriously?" Neal's voice still held that thread of desperation; like he fully expected this to be a dream that would shatter.

It made Peter realise that he couldn't afford to be uncertain, not about this. He nodded. "Yeah." That one simple word both an affirmation and a vow, strengthened by the knowledge that they all wanted this. Somehow they would make it work. He stroked his thumbs down the side of Neal's face. "Come on. Let's get out of here." He nudged the younger man back, kissing him briefly before opening the door. "We'll go home for lunch. I'll text Elizabeth, she can meet us there." They could always review the case notes from home.

Peter watched a dazed, but obviously happy Neal walk past him through the doorway. His gaze slid to that perfect ass and those gloved hands. Okay, so maybe they could take an extended lunch; he was fairly certain that both Neal and and Elizabeth would be on board with the idea. Peter knew there was still a lot to discuss and talk over, probably more than Neal would care for. He also knew that they would have to be careful, that they couldn't afford to compromise the work, or risk Neal being sent back to prison. He also knew that he was already planning a believable excuse for why Neal was moving out of June's apartment and into his and Elizabeth's home. (Since it would inevitably save the department money, he really didn't anticipate much resistance from that quarter.) 

Neal glanced back as they entered the museum's parking lot, offering Peter a brief but dazzling grin as he very deliberately removed the gloves and placed them in his pocket for safe keeping. Peter grinned back and pulled out his phone. He texted Elizabeth. *U were right. We'll b home 4 lunch. See u then xxx*

**Author's Note:**

> This was from six years ago, I barely even remember writing it. The original post didn't have a title so if anyone can offer me a better one, please do.


End file.
